By Bradford Middleton

I’m going to start building a list, 
A shelf of books, to read later on in my life,
A shelf of classics I’ve so far overlooked.

I’ll know that somehow before my life
Is over I’ll need to read them just because
They exist and my mind will not be able
To rest unless I somehow do.

Today I picked Robert Frost from a library
Shelf, checked it out & got it home and I ripped
Right into it.

But then, as I started to read the very first poem,
I could hear my mind saying to me ‘not yet lad,
not yet…’ and I just somehow knew that it was right.

I sat back momentarily to reflect on this decision
But seconds later my pen was hard at it; Frost,
‘The Collected Works’ & while I’m at it let’s
Add Robinson Jeffers as well as I’ll spend my
Days dreaming of glorious French sunsets
Reflecting the own sunset of this life.

Bradford Middleton lives in Brighton, England.  His most recent chapbook ‘The Whiskey Stings Good Tonight…’ came out last year from the mighty fine Alien Buddha whilst recent poems have, or will, appear at Yellow Mama, Cajun Mutt’s Night Owl Narrative #1, Dear Booze and in the Good Press’ The Paper.  He tweets occasionally @bradfordmiddle5.

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